


kiss it better

by prowlish



Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One)
Genre: Comfort, Cute, Fluff, Kissing, M/M, Sick Character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-20
Updated: 2015-11-20
Packaged: 2018-05-02 13:41:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 752
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5250251
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/prowlish/pseuds/prowlish
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For Drift, uncertainty is bad enough without being sick on top of it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	kiss it better

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Arianne](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Arianne/gifts).



> I felt down this morning. I saw a cute pic posted by coralus ([here](https://t.co/qTynv5IQ4s)) and came up with a quick cute idea to make myself feel better. =w=a
> 
> For Arianne, because you deserve all of the comfort too.

This was too much. Just as soon as they got going again in that shuttle of Ratchet's (Ratchet insisted it had more room and more supplies -- not that he was wrong), Drift fell ill. Just as soon as he thought he had the courage to really talk to Ratchet.. along came some stupid bug or another. 

He hadn’t been sick in ages! Literal centuries, in fact! But here he was, lying miserably on a mobile slab. Trust Ratchet to also pick out the shuttle with the most medical accoutrements. Drift wasn't sure if he should be insulted or not.

Ratchet, of course, berated him, and told him exactly how lucky he was that the medic had shown up when he did. And without much sympathy, either, he'd given Drift a very not sexy, cold bath. He'd said that Drift had let too many irritants and contaminants into his systems, which was why he was now on day three of laying on the slab with a plain sheet -- not even a thermal blanket -- wrapped around his frame.

And his systems wouldn't give it a rest, so he was up at an ungodly hour of the morning, according to the shuttle's chronometer, and all he could do was sit there miserably in the dark. He didn't want to wake Ratchet, who had spent a lot of time cleaning him and helping set up whatever comforts there might be on the little craft. They both knew that, for the most part, he was going to have to wait this little bug out… and Drift didn’t want to use up whatever patience Ratchet had left for him.

Drift sighed, sniffled, and then felt his entire intake system sputter into a coughing fit. Wonderful. This always left him breathless, and it felt like it took forever to get his intake cycles back on a regular set.

Further back in the ship he heard shuffling, a quiet murmuring, and a door sliding open. Scrap! He'd woken Ratchet after all. Drift went still, laboring to keep his vents as quiet as possible -- they still rattled, of course -- and quietly hoped that Ratchet would see that it was dark and go back to his own recharge cycle.

No dice. Drift suddenly found himself squinting into the bright, harsh lights of the shuttle's medical station, his vision so blurred by the sudden light that he could only see a fuzzy outline of Ratchet's frame. "Drift?" Ratchet said. "Why are you sittin' around in the dark?"

By the time his visual feed cleared, Ratchet was almost close enough to touch. Drift shrugged and looked away, which shifted the sheet about his frame, making it start to slip off his helm. "I didn't want to wake you by getting up," he said.

Ratchet arched an optic ridge. "So you decided to just sit here, in the dark, bein' miserable?"

Well, when Ratchet put it _that_ way... Drift frowned, rolling his lower lip out a little. "Well, that wasn't exactly my thought process," he murmured.

"And yet here you are," Ratchet remarked, glancing at a computer readout before doing his own scan. Drift remained silent, and still as Ratchet conducted his little scan. Before he knew it, the medic was patting him on the shoulder. "Cheer up, kid, you've almost got this thing beat." 

Drift sighed. Ratchet had said something akin to that the day before. Not that he didn't trust Ratchet's word, but -- he didn't like being bedridden. Injuries were bad enough, illness was near intolerable! 

Ratchet shook his helm -- Drift realized he must still be looking quite sulky, and he tried to offer Ratchet a smile. The medic sighed, picking up the blanket where it had fallen and pulling it back over Drift's helm. "Don't look so excited," he remarked.

Drift laughed softly. "Sorry, I -- " But he stopped whatever he was going to say as he felt Ratchet's hands rest on his cheeks, instead... and the medic leaned in to press a gentle kiss to the top of his helm. Drift realized how ridiculous he must look, staring up slack-jawed at Ratchet, but -- he hadn't been sure how much affection to expect, after all of this.

Ratchet, however, looked like he was about to laugh. "Boy, if I'd known that's all it took to stop you from whining..."

Drift huffed out of his vents, and he at least had the presence of mind to let his intakes get all of their coughing done before he dragged Ratchet down for a proper kiss.

**Author's Note:**

> visit me on [@prowlish](https://twitter.com/prowlish) on twitter!! :)


End file.
